


Beat The Feelings Out

by WhiteCeilings



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, BAMF Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bisexual Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Lust, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha's gayyyyy, No Sex, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Open Relationships, POV Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Questioning Steve Rogers, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn-ish, Sparring, Sparring as a metaphor for sexual tension, Threesome - F/F/M, Valkyrie knows she's bi tho, questioning natasha romanoff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCeilings/pseuds/WhiteCeilings
Summary: Natasha is very comfortable in her relationship with Steve, alright? They're both self-sacrificing enough to be perfect for each other, and Steve is completely accepting of the fact that Natasha doesn't want to have sex. A minor curve is thrown into their dynamic however, when Valkyrie shows up at the Avenger's compound, and Natasha realizes that she really really has a kink for muscular women who could beat her up.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Steve Rogers, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, someone has to write fics with decent straight pairings, alright??? If I don't, who will???
> 
> Also Steve and Natasha are such a power couple I s2g. Enjoy!
> 
> Some notes on Asexual Natasha:  
> Lately I’ve been talking to a lovely friend who’s Ace, and she is helping me write another fic (published soon) that will be more accurate to the experiences of asexual people. I actually wrote this fic before I started talking to her, so bear in mind that this isn’t the very most accurate representation of an ace person. In this fic, Natasha does feel sexual desire in terms of kissing, but doesn’t want to have any sex because it feels overwhelming. I fully acknowledge that this means she may or may not be ace— I simply tagged it as ‘ace’ so people looking for a fic with a romantic but non-sexual relationship could find it.

Natasha set herself on fire for the mission. 

It was one of those moments where in a split second, everything becomes clear. They were on a mission in Galway, Ireland, where Loki had built a monument to his greatness that was supposed to emit signals that would control people’s minds. The Avengers had been called in, where they were promptly engaged in combat by his army of aliens. Natasha was the first to realize it as a diversion, seeing that as they fought, Loki’s henchmen put the final compartment into place to power the device. She had to remove it within the next thirty seconds, or the machine would reach full power, and they would lose. 

The only problem? Between her and the henchmen was a literal wall of fire. One of the flying Avengers could maybe get over it, but they were occupied chasing Loki through the hills, and there was no time besides. It was up to her. 

“Cover me!” She yelled into the comms, then slammed the alien she was fighting against her armored knee so hard it’s skull caved in. She threw them down and ran, trying to get as much momentum as she could before leaping into the wall of fire. She twisted through the air, doing the move she knew gave her the most lift and distance, and landed in a roll on the grass. Entering the wall of flames, there was an immense heat that slammed into to, the steam of a dishwasher amplified by 50, and it didn’t leave her even as she exited the flames. She didn’t have time to save herself though; they only had a few seconds to save the mission.  _ She  _ only had a few seconds. 

So she hoped that her roll put out any remaining flames and ignored the pain, running to the monument. The minions tried to stop her, but she put them out with a bullet, bullet, widows bite, and a good old fashioned swing kick. Then it was just her, and the monument. 

The piece that had just been put in place was glowing an unsettling gold, which she ignored, wrapping her hands around the handle and pulling. There was some give, but it didn’t move much. It wasn’t locked in place, just was heavy as fuck, so she wrapped her hands tighter and put one foot on the wall for leverage, pulling hard. It moved more this time, and she took a moment to thank Karpov for the serum. It had hurt like a bitch, and maybe ruined her life just a little, but it did come in handy. 

She kept pulling, and while it was moving, it wasn’t fast enough. She pressed both feet against the wall, using her body weight as an axis to pull more of it out. She sensed someone behind her, and pulled harder, knowing that this was worth getting knifed in the back. 

But she didn’t get knifed— instead, another set of hands wrapped around the handle, and the compartment started sliding out faster. With one final pull, the two of them managed to pull the compartment out, throwing it to the ground where it stopped glowing. The monument, which Natasha hadn’t realized had been humming with power, quieted. 

She looked over at her ally, knowing without looking that it was Steve. And it was; his helmet lost somewhere in the battle, his face smudged with grime, and his uniform torn in multiple places. He was a mess, and she loved him immensely. 

He was also on fire. 

Without hesitating another moment, Natasha launched herself at him and they rolled. She forced the momentum to keep going so they continued to tumble, hoping the grass would smother the flames, and he worked with her, understanding without words. Finally, they rolled to a stop and Natasha sat up on top of him, checking for any remaining smolders. 

Steve looked at up, giving her a vaguely dopey grin, before slapping her shoulder a few times. “There. It’s out now.” 

“You were on fire too,” Natasha pointed out. 

He shrugged. “Some couples go on hikes. We set ourselves on fire. I don’t see a problem with it.”

She snorted, and got up, offering him a hand. “Yeah, well, that’s probably not a good sign. Are you— shit!” She stumbled as she tried to put weight on her right leg, as searing pain went up it. It felt like it was emanating from the bone, a deep, sharp nerve pain. 

Steve caught her before she could fall, helping her stay up. “Burns?”

“I think so,” she said, gritting her teeth. “It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

While they’d taken care of the monument, Tony and Thor had captured Loki, and Clint, Hulk, and Wanda had defeated the remaining alien henchmen. They updated each other over the comms, and Wanda flew over, parting the flames for Nastaha and Steve to walk through. As soon as she saw how Natasha was limping, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Natasha insisted, though she didn’t object when Wanda supported her other side. She didn’t like being coddled, but the pain wasn’t quite as bad when she didn’t put weight on it, so she put up with it. 

Tony landed his Iron Man suit, the faceplate lifting to reveal his grinning face. “You guys should’ve seen, we kicked Loki’s ass. He’ll know better than to mess with the Avengers a third time— hey Nat, you okay?”

“Fine,” Natasha said again, forcing herself to remember that the constant pestering just meant her teammates cared. It was not because they looked down on her, or thought she was weak. “Wanda, you can let go. I’m good.”

“Are you sure—?”

“I’ve got her,” Steve promised, and Wanda backed off. Clint had gotten to the quinjet and was flying it closer, so she wouldn’t have to be on her feet much longer anyways. “You know, I could scoop you up and carry you bridal style,” Steve muttered against her ear. “Or just put you in a body bag now.”

“I’ll take the body bag,” Natasha groaned. “Put me out of my misery.”

Steve laughed and pecked her on the cheek. It surprised her, but in a good way. Sometimes, it felt like Steve had a dam full of affection, and every once in a while some spilled over, making him feel the need to express it through his words and his actions. She didn’t quite understand it, but she loved him for it. 

They leaned up against each other all the way to the quinjet, with Steve never picking her up bridal style or doing anything else humiliating. Once they were sat down, he helped her prop her leg up so he could look at it. “Ooh, I think you won the injury contest today; that looks third degree.” 

“Sexy,” Natasha murmured. It was beginning to hurt even more as the adrenaline wore off, the wound feeling like it was pulsing. “Do you have any challengers?”

“A couple of smaller burns, but nothing that can compete,” he reassured her. She was glad; this was the type of competition she hated to lose, especially to Steve. 

Clint performed some light first aid during the flight over, and then she was brought to the medical lab, where Helen Cho performed the rest. Steve stayed by Natasha’s side the whole time, though he did move to the side for a few minutes while a pair of nurses tended to his wounds. One minute, Steve was fully dressed in his charred uniform, but when Natasha looked over a minute later, he’d been stripped down to his tac pants. One of the nurses tried to hide her smile as she cleaned a wound on his abdomen; another was fully blushing as she wiped the grime off his face. He tilted his head back to better allow it, but that probably didn’t help, as it exposed the entire line of his neck, showing off the sharpness of his jaw. He caught Natasha looking, and gave her a helpless look, like  _ I don’t know how to make them stop.  _ The nurse working on his abdomen let out a soft grunt as his abs flexed involuntarily. 

Helen Cho glanced over to where Natasha was looking and muttered “ _ Oh.  _ Give me just a minute.” She left the room, and came back with a gangly male nurse, with bleached blond hair and a serious expression. “Sandy, you’re needed to help with Wanda. Jamie will take over from here.”

Jamie saluted Sandy playfully, then quickly gave Steve a once over. “This really would be easier if you were laying down,” he commented, then easily dropped to his knees and undid Steve’s pants. Steve jerked in surprise, biting his lip hard with the effort to hold still as Jamie retrieved a pair of scissors and started cutting Steve’s pants off of him. He peeled the fabric back, either unaware or uncaring of how close his face was to Steve’s crotch, how his hands landed on the firmness of his thighs and hips easily. 

Natasha covered her mouth so she wouldn’t giggle, and Steve craned his head back, face bright red.  _ This is worse,  _ he mouthed to her.  _ This is so much worse. _

__ She arched her eyebrows, hoping he got the message of  _ what, you aren’t used to cute boys taking off your pants?  _

__ He made a few vague, embarrassed hand gestures, and while Natasha couldn’t completely translate them, she knew they made her laugh. 

“The cradle should be done soon,” Cho announced, ignoring their silent interaction. “Then I’ll just want you to be light on it for a while. I’ll give you a salve you can put on it every night, and then I want you to take a break from training for three days. After that, you can do light workouts again. Besides that, just make sure you’re eating a balanced diet and drinking enough water, you know the drill.”

“Got it doc,” Natasha confirmed, trying for her best ‘responsible patient’ face. “And just to clarify, by training you mean…”

Helen sighed quietly. “No working out. No sparring. No sex. Sorry Steve.”

“I’ll live,” he assured her, giving Natasha a goofy grin. He did  _ not  _ make a joke about blue balls, or sigh in exasperation. He was so damn good.

The two nurses looked at each other, sharing a mischievous look. They were both Cho’s assistants, who had traveled with her from Korea, and they said something to each other in the language. Jamie made a sad clucking noise and gave Steve’s crotch a meaningful look before continuing cleaning a wound on his thigh. 

“They’re talking about the weather,” Cho said with a dead look behind the eyes, then scolded the nurses in Korean. Jamie protested, saying something that to Natasha’s ears sounded like the Korean equivalent of  _ shut up mom, let us live _ , but there was really no telling. 

Natasha caught Steve’s eyes, and in deep, horribly accented Russian, announced “<Two can play at this game. Fuck, marry, kill, the three nurses>.” 

He sighed loudly, then glanced down at the nurses, sizing them up. “<You’re a bad person>.”

“<I know. Answer the question.>”

“<You’re putting me in a bad spot>,” Steve complained again, then said: “<Marry the girl nurse who’s still here. She seems nice, and she’s able to stay focused on her job. Um, I don’t want to kill Sandy, but she’s the odd one out>.” 

Natasha cackled, stopping when it hurt one of the bruises on her side. “<So you’d fuck Jamie?>”

“<Maybe>,” Steve said, facing going pink again. “<I like his name>.”

“<He’s cute>,” Natasha said, though she didn’t really find him attractive. 

Steve shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. “You’re the worst.”

“ _ Da.”  _

__ Cho cleared her throat. “I’ll have you all know that this has been a horrible experience for me, as I speak both fluent Korean  _ and  _ Russian, and you are all bad people. Jamie, Ana, I can finish up from here if you want to see if any stations need cleaning.”

Jamie and Ana both left, bidding Natasha and Steve goodbye and good health. Steve rubbed his face. “I feel a little more molested every time I come here,” he admitted through his hands. 

“I can talk to them,” Cho said, sincere. 

Natasha shook her head. “Nah, don’t bother. He likes it.”

Steve glared at her, but he didn’t object. 

———————————

  
  


Back in the apartment, they refueled and then got ready for bed. It was around six at night, but they were both exhausted and Jarvis had already pulled the blackout curtains, so it felt like a lot later. 

“I’m going to shower,” Steve decided, moving around the room to get his things together. “Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

“That’d probably be good,” Natasha said, not happy about it. Baths felt like the biggest waste of time in the world, but she didn’t quite trust her ability to keep her balance in the shower. “Thanks, Steve.”

She was sprawled out on their bed, so it was easy for him to lean down and kiss her forehead. “No problem. I’ll be quick, save the hot water.” 

She hummed, then grabbed him by the collar before he could get away. She pulled him down, kissing him upside down. She couldn’t describe what Steve tasted like, just that it was nice, familiar. His lips were soft and warm, parted just the way she liked it. She could’ve stayed there all night. 

But unfortunately, Steve had other plans. He pulled away, a new warmth to his face that hadn’t been there before. “Are you just trying to procrastinate your bath?”

“ _ No, _ ” Natasha said, but based on the way Steve laughed she wasn’t very convincing.

Steve took his shower, then stayed in the bathroom for another ten minutes after. Natasha listened to see if she could hear him masturbate, but if that’s what he was doing, he was quiet about it. He reappeared wearing sweats, his blond hair darker with water, and helped Natasha walk into the bathroom. The tub there was already filled, and all of her shower supplies had been moved to be within reach of it. 

“You want help getting undressed?” He asked, and she nodded. He sat her down on the counter by the tub, then reverently knelt, unzipping her track pants and carefully shimmying them down her legs. Natasha was well aware that, as he did it, he was checking her over for injuries, making sure Cho took care of everything. She had, and Steve places a kiss to the outside of both of her knees, making her skin raise with goosebumps. 

He stood, and helped her get her shirt off, her arm mobility limited by a scab on her shoulder. That left her in just her sports bra and panties, but Steve didn’t let his eyes linger on her bared skin. His eyes met hers as he hooked his fingers on her panties, wiggling them down her legs without ever looking to see what they may have revealed; he did a similar action with her sports bra, looking over her shoulder as he unclasped it in the back. “I’m going to pick you up now, don’t freak,” he murmured, but the hint of teasing in his voice as he scooped her up like she weighed nothing, dipping her into the warm bathwater. She kept her right leg out of it so the fresh skin wasn’t affected, and he helped her arrange a pillow behind her head so her neck wasn’t stuck at an uncomfortable angle. 

“Anything else I can get you?” He asked, his eye darting down at the bathwater for the briefest moment before quickly looking away. “Sorry.”

She meant to say  _ no, I’m fine,  _ or maybe  _ don’t worry, you did nothing wrong,  _ but instead what came out was “You’re perfect.”

He smiled sadly, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips, closed mouth and chaste. “Thanks. But I’m really not.” 

“Perfect to me,” she clarified. 

He gave her that look again, like he didn’t believe it but he appreciated it, then pressed a quick kiss to the underside of her jaw before standing. She had the briefest moment where she imagined him kissing her neck more, digging his fingers into her shoulders, making it easy for her to tip him over and pull him into the bath too, all hot water and bare skin— but she quickly pushed that thought away. That wasn’t how the real world worked. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said as he left, and she nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see it. 

  
  


———————————

  
  


They shared the same bed every night. Every morning, Natasha woke up when Steve left for his run, and then fell back asleep and woke up for good when he got back. What meals they didn’t eat with the team, they ate in their apartment, at the little kitchen table, or on the couch, again on the floor. They sparred together. They texted each other both political articles,  _ The Unspoken Truth Of President Ellis’ New Proposal,  _ and BuzzFeed quizzes,  _ These Five Questions Will Tell You Which Avenger Body Part You Are.  _ They were usually touching, and when they weren’t, it wasn’t for long. They didn’t cuddle so much as fall on top of each other, but it worked. It worked. 

They’d started dating in Wakanda, of all places. It had been an emotional month for Steve, starting with Rumlow’s death, then the issue of the Accords, then T’Chaka’s assassination, then Bucky being blamed and forced out of hiding, then his innocence being proven, Zemo’s capture by Tony, and Bucky fleeing again. Steve had been tracking him for nearly two years, and finally he’d found him only to lose him again. But this time, he wasn’t going to look for him. 

“He was healing,” he’d said, sitting on a bench in one of T’Challa’s many lavish gardens. “He was… better. He said he needed space. He said he’d find me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said, unsure what else she could do. “But it’s good of you to respect him like that.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. There’s a part of me that just wants to say screw it all. I can find him, fix everything, make all of his suffering go away…”

“But that’s not what he wants.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s not. And… it’s not what he needs. So I’ll give him space. I don’t think it makes me good, though. Not when I don’t want to do it.”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

He’d looked to her then, really looked at her, with those eyes that could make Nazis abandon ship, eyes that could bring the dead back to life. “What have your actions been saying?”

Well. She’d been there for him at Peggy’s funeral. Saved his ass at the airport fight. Given Tony a hint to get to the base where Zemo was hiding out, where he was able to apprehend him before he could cause more damage. And yeah, okay, she’d killed Senator Stern in his sleep, because he was trouble, and if anyone would tear her family apart, it was him. 

And now she was here, sitting with Steve in Wakanda. Of all the places in the world she could be, she was here. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered finally, feeling found out. “What do my actions say?”

They kissed then. It was the second time, technically, though the first hadn’t been real. This one was real. This one was for keeps. 

And that was it, that was the story. They stayed in Wakanda for a few days, testing out their newfound intimacy and finding that it had been there for a lot longer than either had quite realized. Then they flew back to the Compound, where the rest of the Avengers were waiting, and Natasha moved into Steve’s apartment. 

The connection between them had been there from the start, they just had never really acknowledged it. There’d always been something holding both of them back: for Steve, it was his loyalty to Bucky, his first true love even if he denied it; and for Natasha, it was her own self-punishment. She didn’t want to give herself good things, especially if they would just be taken away. 

But Steve was there to stay. So, little by little, she let herself have him. 

There were still things that she wouldn’t allow herself, however, the biggest being sex. There was a part of her that wanted it, but a bigger part of her hated the idea. She didn’t like the idea of being completely naked with him, baring every inch of skin for his gaze. She didn’t like the idea of giving herself over to him. She’d had sex before, and hadn’t enjoyed it. It had always been because of one duty or another— her duty to learn, her duty towards being a good spy, her duty to show she was grateful, her duty to make a target vulnerable. She didn’t want Steve to be her duty. 

So, they didn’t have sex. Steve didn’t take issue with it, and every once in a while, their anniversary, for example, she would buy him different masturbation aids, just for fun. He rolled his eyes at the lube and went bright red at the fleshlights. “I can’t use those,” he argued. “It looks like something a teenage boy would get. Like… like those mousepads with boobs on them.” 

Natasha had broken down laughing, something about the image of Steve intently groping a mousepad doing her in, and soon Steve was laughing too. When he started laughing for real, it was an earth-shaking event, and soon Natasha found herself wrapped up in his arms, shaking with their shared laughter. 

To her knowledge, Steve had never used the fleshlights, though he still owned them, tucked in a basket under their sink. 

She’d also gotten him a nice fleshy dildo, which he had turned over in his hands a few times. “Who am I supposed to use this on?”

She just smiled. “Did you know that some men can orgasm from prostate stimulation alone?”

She wasn’t positive, but she was pretty sure that one had seen at least a little use, judging by the way Steve had eyed it after hearing that. 

  
  


——————————

  
  


Natasha was back to her normal training regimen within a few days. She could tell that Steve wasn’t a fan of her going hard again, but he wasn’t exactly slowing down either so he didn’t have a leg to stand on. 

People gathered around to watch, sometimes. The compound had a pretty significant staff of scientists, workers, and baby agents, the latter of which were always trying to watch the Avengers in action, though they’d never admit to it. So it wasn’t uncommon to have a small audience, especially on their rougher days. Those were the days when they didn’t pull their punches; the days when they went as hard as they could for as long as they could, stopping only when one of them tapped, and then resetting and doing it all over again. 

In many ways, Steve and Natasha were evenly matched. They both had extensive training in multiple styles, with neither relying too much on one over the other. They both trained for speed, and both had enhanced strength. The biggest difference was their size, but it wasn’t an issue. Not for them. 

It was one of those rougher days, and they had a small audience collected together when Natasha messed up, and Steve grabbed her from behind. She didn’t have a chance to escape the grip as he latched his arms around her waist and swung himself backward, taking her with him so that he landed on his back and she somersaulted over his head, rolling into a crouch. It was a jarring move; especially because it reminded her just how strong Steve was. He was such a pancake sometimes she forgot. 

He rolled to his feet and she dove for him before he could stand fully, catching his legs in a blast double and sending him over. He tried to grab her, but she blocked his attempts, climbing up his body and latching her thighs hard against his obliques. They were too strong for her to cut off his air like this, but it at least gave her some grip as she jabbed her elbow into his diaphragm. Her hands caught onto his collar, one behind his neck and one to the side, and she twisted, pulling her chest to his. “Yield.”

“Don’t need to,” he said, though he knew her fighting style enough to know that was a temporary condition. Natasha pulled tighter, digging the side of her hand into his windpipe  _ hard  _ and counting one, two… Steve tapped her on the thigh, and she released her grip. 

“Yield,” he rasped out, coughing. He sat up and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. They were both sweaty, their shirts stained with it. Natasha’s hands were slightly damp with the sweat from Steve’s collar, and she knew her hair had partially come out of its ponytail. “I feel like you’re getting better at that.”

“It’s a beginner move, you can’t get better at it.” 

He shrugged. “You have.”

She looked to the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do with that comment, when he grabbed her by the shins and she lost her balance. She toppled, landing messily in Steve’s lap, facing him. 

“Oh no,” he said, shit-eating grin fully intact, “You tripped.”

“Dumbass,” she complained, but gave in, kissing him. She was a little mean about it, digging her hand into the hair at the back of his neck, but he made a happy surprised noise, so she didn’t back off. Finally, they pulled away, Steve shooting her a smile before climbing to his feet, helping her up after him. 

They walked straight past the agents, ignoring the way they shuffled and muttering amongst themselves. One of the agents muttered “Imagine seeing them  _ fuck _ ” and Natasha smiled, self-satisfied. 

They went into the Avengers-only locker rooms, closing the door pointedly behind them. “Jarvis,” Steve requested politely, “Please inform us of anyone coming.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

With that out of the way, Steve backed Natasha up against a set of lockers, until the handle of one was digging into her back. “Agent,” he said lowly, smile gone. 

Natasha swallowed, having to look up to meet his eyes. “Captain.”

He nudged her jaw up with his knuckles, and she parted her lips, expecting the kiss but still surprised when she felt his lips on hers, hot and human. Her eyes automatically closed, her hands automatically going to his shoulders, one arm wrapping around his neck like she was trying to pull him closer. 

He held onto her with one hand on her jaw, the other one wrapping around to squeeze her ass through her leggings. It made her gasp against his mouth, but refusing to be fully submissive, she muttered: “You like my ass in these pants?”

“I like your ass in all pants,” he growled, and she took it as a cue to jump up, wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her ankles. He did a quarter turn and shoved her up against the other wall, no handles to dig into her back here, and kissed her messily. Just as his lips strayed from her mouth to her neck, Jarvis pinged and announced that Agent Barton was headed there way. 

Steve let go of her legs, letting them slide back down to the floor, though he kept her pinned against the wall. She could feel his chest against hers, the rapid rise and fall of it after such a brutal workout. “Romanoff,” he whispered, breathless. “I love you.”

It made Natasha go a little gooey and warm, not that she’d admit it. “I love you too. We, um… we should do this again.”

Steve grinned evilly, then stepped back, going to his locker and opening it right as the locker room door opened. 

“ _ The li-on sleeps, to-night, _ ” Clint finished singing under his breath before noticing them. “Oh, hey guys. You just finishing up?”

“Nah, just taking a break,” Steve said, straddling one of the benches. “You wanted to keep going, right Nat? Don’t tell me you’re tired.”

Natasha flipped him off, then pulled off her shirt, grabbing a fresh one from her locker. “You can still train if you want. Clint, do you need someone for target practice?”

“I’m offended,” Steve laughed. 

Natasha ditched her leggings and replaced them with a fresh pair of sweats. “You should be,” she said, then shoved her sweat-soaked clothes in his face. 

“That’s disgusting,” Clint commented, at his own locker. 

Steve just made some slurping noises, which made Natasha wrinkle her nose in disgust too. “That’s nasty. You’re not supposed to like it.”

“I’m pretty sure anything smells better than I do right now,” he insisted, standing. “My lady.”

She swatted his arm away, causing Clint to make a comment about chivalry being dead, then took his hand loosely as they walked out of the locker room. Steve pulled back at the last moment to yell “Clint, don’t use the second sparring mat! We got blood all over it!”

“Your blood,” Natasha murmured. 

“Your face,” her mature boyfriend refuted. 

—————

  
  


When leaving the locker room, Natasha had been wearing her sweatpants and sports bra, with no shirt. She hadn’t realized how bruised up she’d been— or what that may have looked like to non-Avengers. The next day, however, all sorts of people shared what they thought it looked like when the headline “BLACK WIDOW ABUSED BY JEALOUS CAPTAIN AMERICA” graced the front of every tabloid in the country. 

“Are you offended?” Clint asked from where he was lounging on the couch. He’d started out in a more dignified position, but over time he’d slid down, his legs kicked high over the armrest and his chin tucked to his chest awkwardly, like a turtle that couldn’t quite pull itself back into its shell. “I’m offended and the article’s not even about me.”

“You’re less offended about articles trashing you,” Natasha pointed out. She was standing in front of the wall mirror and had taken her shirt off to examine her bruises. “These don’t look all that bad.”

“You look like you got hit by a car,” Clint said. “And then Captain America got out of the car and punched you.”

“I wouldn’t punch her,” Steve argued, stepping out of the elevator. “Not even if she dented my car with her body.”

“I’m swooning,” Natasha replied, leaning into him for a quick kiss. He pulled back and frowned, looking at one of the bigger bruises over her ribs. 

“Did I give you that?”

“Yeah, in one of your jealous rages,” Natasha commented sarcastically. She walked over to the couch, taking the magazine from Clint and rolling it up to swat at him lightly. “I got it from some sort of training, I don’t know how and it doesn’t matter. Bruises happen. If your workouts don’t hurt you’re not doing them right.” 

“I guess,” Steve agreed, though he sounded dubious. “Shouldn't your serum have healed that by now?”

“My healing factor’s not the same as yours, it mostly just focuses on big injuries. Seriously, Steve, it’s fine. You didn’t hear me complaining about it.”

Steve took her gently by the hand, pulling her close to his chest. She looked up at his eyes, humoring him. “I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” he said quietly, so Clint wouldn’t hear. “And I don’t like the idea of it being my fault.”

She tilted her head to the side, allowing her hair to fall away from her face. “Well, I have good news for you: it’s not your fault for hitting me, it’s my fault for not blocking the hit. Consider your conscience: eased.”

Steve made a face like  _ well, I can’t argue with that logic  _ and stepped back. “My conscience is eased.” His eyes darted down for a moment, catching on the maroon lace of her bralette, and then darted over to where Clint was still slouched on the couch. “Now put a shirt on. We’re not in private; this is indecent.”

There was a quirk in the side of his mouth that told Natasha he was joking, which was good because she didn’t do well with genuine possessiveness. So, playing along, she went “Oh?” and strolled over the couch, pulling Clint down it by his feet so he was lying flat on his back, going back to only having one chin instead of three. Clint flailed, by she ignored it, climbing onto him and straddling him easily. “Clint doesn’t mind, right Clint?”

“Um, I mind very much—” Clint tried to argue, but Natasha ignored him. It was his faux-serious tone, one she knew well from years of friendship. She would’ve stopped if he’d been genuinely uncomfortable, instead of just playing along. 

“Nat,” Steve complained, and Natasha looked up, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Yes?”

“Is that a push-up bra?” Clint asked, frowning at Natasha’s chest.

She dug her shin into his thigh a little, just enough to make him wince. “No, actually; this bra has minimal padding. I guess they just make girls different… in the motherland.” She bit her lip, smiling sultrily down at Clint. It was part of the game, just more teasing, and she half expected Steve to pull her off of Clint bodily. She was surprised then, when the moment passed, and Steve hadn’t moved or spoken. 

She looked up, worried for a moment that she’d gone too far, only to see his  _ face _ . And… yeah, that wasn’t the face of someone upset. In  _ distress,  _ maybe, but not upset. 

Natasha took in Steve’s face, the redness of his cheeks, the wide eyes, the way he sucked his lips in for just a moment, wetting them, and made a decision. “This was mean,” she decided, and got off of Clint without half the formality she’d used getting on. She went back to the wall mirror, tugging her shirt off of the corner she’d hung it on and pulling it back over her head. “Sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have made you jealous like that, it was unfair. Clint, you know how to find the door?”

“I— yeah.” Clint gave her a puzzled look, trying to figure out what game she was playing, and she raised her eyebrows in a way that communicated  _ I’ll text you about it later.  _ He nodded jerkily. “Yeah, I have… training to get to. I’ll see you guys later!” He tripped over the magazine that’d fallen to the floor in his haste to leave, but then was gone. 

Natasha turned to Steve, who was frowning. “I wasn’t— I wasn’t jealous—”

“I know,” Natasha said. “Let’s watch tv?”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but in the end just agreed. They got settled on the couch, Steve with her arm around Natasha’s shoulders, and started up the next episode of their latest show. Natasha was only pretending to watch; she had other, more pressing things on her mind. 

Steve was right; he  _ wasn’t  _ jealous. That wasn’t what she’d seen when she looked at his expression, his blown eyes, his wet lips. He was… he was turned on. He saw Natasha flirting, shirtless, with her close, male friend, and instead of being jealous he was  _ aroused.  _

__ Natasha pushed past the subject quickly, wanting time to process. She wasn’t sure what to think. All she knew was that she’d seen that darkness in his eyes and she’d  _ like it.  _

  
  


————————

  
  


They didn’t talk about it again, both continuing on with their normal routines. The Avengers’ PR team released some sort of statement about how the bruises were taken out of context, and how Captain America would never do anything like that. The agent who took and sold the picture would be removed from the Avengers Compound, no questions asked. They had enough to deal with without being slandered by people who were supposed to be working for them. 

Furthermore, Natasha didn’t bring up the not-jealousy thing again, and Steve seemed to have forgotten, so they proceeded to pretend it never happened. They were doing a good job too; until the Guardians came to visit. 

The Avengers had been notified in advance, and everyone was bustling around in preparation. Everyone but Steve and Natasha, apparently. They’d helped set up the meeting and had gathered some things the Guardians had requested, so their designated jobs were already over, leaving them to lounge on a bench outside the main building and wait. Steve had had the forethought to bring a newspaper, and Natasha had already stolen the funnies and the politics section from him, discarding them under the bench carelessly, and had moved on to reading her phone when the Guardians finally landed. She and Steve both watched it, their hair being blown back from its strong winds, but as everyone started disembarking and they were still not needed, Steve’s eyes wandered back to his paper. 

“God, spaceships are just… so cool,” Bruce said, coming up to them. He had four of those drink take-out holders balanced in his arms, each one carrying four cups of steaming coffee. 

“Were a space nerd as a kid?” Natasha asked fondly. 

“As a kid?” Steve snorted, not looking up. “He’s still a space nerd now.”

“Not professionally,” Bruce said wistfully. 

Steve folded his paper over, reading the backside. “I bet if you ask nicely they’ll let you ride around in their ship.” 

“God, I hope. Do either of you want coffee?”

They both took some, with Steve actually looking up from his paper to thank Bruce, because Natasha wasn’t dating a dickbag. The coffee was still too hot for Natasha, so she set it aside, but Steve started sipping his right away. 

Bruce moved on, careful not to let any cups fall, and Natasha let herself get distracted by the Guardians unpacking things. They’d met a few times, though there was still some tension between the groups, allies but not yet friends. She went through them one by one, reciting their names and what she knew about them. Then…

A new, non-Guardian climbed off the ship, yelling at someone still inside. She was dressed entirely in black leather armor, her breastplate perfectly shaped and glinting in the afternoon light, boots mean-looking, like they were designed with the intention of smashing faces in. Behind her, a cerulean cape flared. Her face was painted like a warrior, and when she turned Natasha took note of a vicious blue blade strapped to her back. She jumped off the ramp and yelled at one of the agents who was trying to lift a box, hurling abuse at him like she was getting paid by the insult. 

“Steve?” Natasha asked, right as Steve took a sip of his coffee. “I’m gay.”

Steve spat out his coffee all over his newspaper, and simultaneously dropped his cup. The cup splattered all over his uniformed legs, and he shook his paper out, setting it aside with the look of contempt before turning to her. “Excuse me? Did you just say—”

“I’m gay? Yeah.” Natasha nodded her head towards Valkyrie, who had stopped yelling abuse and started yelling orders, all of the baby agents rushing around to obey. “Look at her.”

“Who, Valkyrie?”

“ _ That’s  _ Valkyrie?” Natasha had heard of her, but she’d never seen her in person. “She’s hot. You think she’s hot, right?”

“I will remind you that I am in a relationship,” Steve said, though he looked anyways. “And  _ so are you.  _ What do you mean, you’re gay?”

“I’m gay for her,” Natasha clarified. Was she— fuck, was she wet?

Steve looked at her, really examining her face before twisting his own up in an expression of horror. “Oh God— are you  _ wet?” _

__ “What?” Natasha said, trying her best to sound abhorred. “No, of course not! I just— look at her. Tell me you wouldn’t hit that.”

“ _ You  _ wouldn’t hit that,” Steve reminded her. “You’re asexual.”

“Yeah, but like—” Natasha huffed, and took a sip of her coffee to procrastinate, but it was still too hot and it burned her. “I would metaphorically.” 

Steve picked his newspaper up again, trying to find a part unaffected by his spit take. “I won’t pretend to understand you.” 

“Come on, we should greet them,” Natasha said, standing and pulling Steve to his feet behind her. “Here, you can have my coffee.”

That made Steve happier, at least, and together they walked toward the group that was beginning to form of Avengers and Guardians. They were reintroduced to Peter Quill and Gamora, and then Valkyrie marched over. “Thor, I swear if one of those agents breaks my shit—”

“Yes yes, I’m sure they will meet a horrible end,” Thor said, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. He leaned back, picking her up with a grunt, and as soon as she was on the ground she did the same, lifting the God of Thunder up like he was her little brother. “How is New Asgard?”

“Thriving, now that you’re gone,” she said, blunt but still playful. She looked at the rest of the group, raising her eyebrow. “And who are these people?”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve introduced, stepping forward to shake her hand. She dodged the normal handshake, instead clasping his forearm. He stepped aside so Natasha could step forward, taking Valkyrie's arm in the same manner. Valkyrie had a tight grip, and Natasha tried to return it, getting an interested eyebrow raise in return. 

“And I’m Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Oh, please,” Valkyrie said, and was that a  _ smirk?  _ “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“We should start heading inside,” Bruce commented, completely unaware of the literal sparks shooting off from where Natasha and Valkyrie touched. “I think it’s going to rain soon.”

“Angry boy!” Valkyrie greeted, momentarily distracted. Bruce quickly handed off his remaining coffee cups, just in time for Valkyrie to grab him by the knees and lift him up easily. She laughed with joy, and Bruce laughed too, his smile genuine even if his eyes were slightly pinched with worry; it wasn’t often people scooped up the man who could turn into the Hulk like he was a little kid. “How’ve you been?!”

“Great! And I’ll be better when you, uh, set me down.”

Valkyrie laughed good-naturedly. “Don’t tell me this scares you, when you feel from that spaceship that one time and landed on your face.” Natasha gave Bruce an intrigued look— he’d never mentioned  _ that  _ story. Valkyrie finally set Bruce back on the ground, where they were nearly the same height, and ruffled his hair. “The whole team is back together!” She declared with delight. “Is Loki going to pop up somewhere?”

Thor cleared his throat awkwardly. “Erm, no. Loki is causing havoc elsewhere.”

“Wonderful!” Valkyrie declared, like it was genuinely the best news she’d heard in a while. “Let’s go inside, my armor is not enjoying all this direct sun. Thor, I want to see this new axe of yours!”

Steve leaned over to Natasha’s ear, asking “Is that a euphemism?”

“God, I hope not.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Guardians were all set up in guest rooms, where they would stay for the next week. They seemed pleased with this situation, which Natasha understood, especially after hearing that normally the six of them (two humanoids, one bug girl, one loud blue guy, one raccoon and a tree) slept in the ship. Valkyrie ended up sharing Thor's room, surprisingly enough. 

Natasha tried not to be too obvious about watching her at the feast that night, and she only talked with her if they ended up in the same group discussion. She didn't know how she actually felt, just that she was attracted to her. That didn't have to mean anything, though; she'd found men attractive in the past few years, while she and Steve had been dating, and it hadn't mattered. Maybe this was just different because Valkyrie was a girl. 

Still, Natasha couldn't help but think about it. And, when everyone moved away from the dinner table and into the common area, she couldn't help striking a personal conversation with Thor. "You and Valkyrie seem close." 

"Indeed," he said merrily, catching Natasha's eyes and lingering there. "She is the Queen of Asgard, and my friend besides. I don't think that is what you meant, however." 

Natasha shrugged. "I couldn't help but notice that she's sleeping in your room with you. Same bed?" 

"Oh, of course," Thor said, almost offended. "You think I would make the Queen of Asgard sleep on my floor? Nonsense. My bed is high tech memory foam; it conforms to your pressure points and cradles the body, allowing for a restful night's sleep."

"You're not answering my question," Natasha pointed out. 

"I disagree, I'm answering exactly the question you asked. Now, if perhaps you meant something different…" 

" _ Thor." _

__ "...Then I would say no, we are not together, if that is in fact what you were suggesting. I am not her type. And besides, she's given me too much trauma anyways. We would not work well in a romantic setting."

Natasha blinked. "Oh. Do you have trauma about everyone on Asgard? Because it seems--" 

"I do, as a matter of fact," Thor said easily. "Why do you think I live here?" 

Natasha blinked as he excused himself. What did--?

A hand slid into her back pocket, groping her naturally before pulling her around to face him. "Hey," Steve greeted, smiling. "Rocket's making rootbeer floats, you want one?" 

"Do I want ice cream prepared by a raccoon?" Natasha repeated, frowning. "Are you getting one?"

"I think so," Steve said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I might ask when the last time he got his rabies vaccination first, though." 

Natasha laughed, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Probably smart. But I'm good; I'll just have some of yours."

"I could just get you your own," he reminded. 

She smiled. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that? It'll taste better if I'm stealing it from you." 

Steve hummed, eyes darting down to her lips. "Wow. Love of my life, apple of my eye." 

"You know it," she murmured, then kissed him. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was sweet, both of them warm with happiness, and Steve's hand  _ was  _ still in her back pocket. 

"Woah, guys, break it up," Tony said from the couches. "There are kids present. The raccoon counts as a kid, right?"

"No, actually he's much older than all of us combined," Quill replied. 

"I can't tell if you're joking."

"He's joking," Gamora chimed in, then quieter: "You are joking, right?"

Natasha and Steve pulled away, sharing a quick, soft-edged smile before Steve turning toward the kitchen. Natasha turned to the couches, looking for an empty space only to instinctively meet Valkyrie's eyes. She was sitting by Drax, her knees turned toward him, but her eyes were on Natasha. As Natasha watched, she smirked, like she knew  _ exactly  _ the thoughts running through her head. 

Natasha ended up finding an empty spot on the floor near Rhodey. Steve came over a minute later, wiggling into the spot beside her and causing her to scoot closer to Rhodey, making a joke about Russians not understanding personal space, which made him snort. Steve had only gotten one root beer float, but he obediently passed it over, letting her have as much as she wanted. They passed it back and forth until it was gone, and then Steve went to get another. When he came back Rhodey called out "Hey, drink slave!", which started a round of heckling from the whole team, and ended up with Steve going and getting drinks for everyone and their talking tree-man. 

"You're good at that," Natasha muttered once Steve finally sat back down. "New side gig?"

"Ugh, no," Steve grumbled. "I'm too busy. Besides, Avengering is already my side-gig."

Natasha frowned. "Then what's your main gig?" 

"Making you happy." 

Natasha laughed loudly, covering her mouth a moment too late. "That's disgusting. Never say anything like that to me  _ ever again." _

"I can't help that I'm sappy," Steve played along. "Leaf me alone." 

"Leaf-- was that a pun?"

Steve shrugged, completely innocent. 

Natasha hit him on the shoulder. "Dear God, that was a pun! Did you Skype with Shuri again yesterday? I knew I should've blocked her." 

"Hey, just think, it could've been worse," Steve pointed out. " _ Peter Parker _ almost came tonight." 

Natasha shuddered visibly. 

  
  


\-----------------------

  
  


Natasha jerked awake, sitting up so fast she almost made herself sick. Actually, maybe the nauseous feeling wasn't because of sitting up too fast, but was because of the dream. 

She'd been back in the Red Room, where a vast majority of her unwanted dreams took place. She'd been a little girl, playing with Yelena in between their two cots, thinking of how much she appreciated her friend. She'd been a pre-teen, feeling a warmth in her chest when she saw Yelena, feeling a twisting in her stomach when she watched her change out of her dirty combat clothes. She'd been a teenager, kissing Yelena against a tree on a mission. And then, she'd still been a teenager, just one week older: standing before Yelena, whose head was covered by a bag, hands bound behind her. 

_ The Red Room allows no distractions,  _ Mistress Oksana said behind her. Natasha was standing, her feet shoulder width apart, her arms raised, finger on the trigger, and she… she…

"Nat?" Steve asked sleepily, and Natasha nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his hand, cold, against the small of her back. "Hey, hey, sorry," he said, fully awake now, fighting the tangled sheets to sit up and wrap his arms around her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay? Was it a dream?"

_ A dream.  _ Yes, it had been a dream. But it had been her life, too. 

Natasha had shot the gun. And after that, well. She'd learned her lesson about falling for girls.

"Just a dream," Natasha swore, her voice too soft. She cleared her throat. "Sorry." 

Steve wrapped his big arms around her, pulling her close. She jerked a little when one of his hands brushed her back again, and, noticing, Steve pulled her tank top down to cover the patch of skin. "Hey, none of that. Here, let's lay down again. Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No," Natasha admitted, allowing him to pull her down until she was half laying on his chest, her cheek resting on her hand. She was shaking, she realized. She tried to make it stop.

"That's alright," Steve promised, keeping a tight hold on her, like he was trying to anchor her to him. "Do you want me to stay awake with you?" 

It was an innocent question, though Natasha found herself wincing at it. Yes. No. "No," she said, wanting to take care of him. He deserved a night's rest, even if she couldn't get one.

Despite that, she felt his chest rise and fall evenly, still awake instead of falling back asleep. Natasha waited, wanting to give him a chance to back out of wakefulness, but when that didn't come she nuzzled closer to his chest. "Steve? I'm not gay. Just… so you know. I was joking earlier."

Steve rubbed his back, taking his time to process a response. "Okay," he said finally. 

"Okay?" Natasha confirmed, more desperate than she intended. 

"It's okay," Steve repeated. "And it'd be okay if you were gay. Or, I don't know… bi, or something. Obviously I'd be pretty upset if you swore off of men altogether, but that's neither here nor there-- I like you, Nat. That's what I'm trying to say. I like you-- love you-- and I care about you, so whatever you want to be… that's okay with me." 

Natasha let out a long exhale, feeling a weight be lifted. "Okay. Thanks, Steve." 

Steve shifted, rolling them onto their sides. He pulled Natasha up a little and scooted himself down, smiling once they were eye level. "Night, Nat. Love you." 

"Love you too," Natasha found herself replying. They shared a peck of a kiss, then Steve wiggled down even more, until he could rest his forehead against her chest, breathing in and out deeply. Natasha recognized the gesture for what it was, and rubbed his back, holding him close and safe as he fell back to sleep. There weren't many people Steve felt comfortable being small with, and Natasha was honored to be one of them.

The next day, she didn't avoid Valkyrie as much as she tried not to notice her. She felt emotionally drained from the nightmare, and the surge of memories it had prompted-- nearly a decade of repression-- and it was easier just not to deal with it.

She'd been pretty successful at it until she walked into the gym with Steve one day to find Valkyrie and Thor sparring. They were using weapons, both of them wielding swords that didn't  _ look  _ blunted, and they threw insults back and forth. Thor had a tendency to trash talk when he sparred, and Valkyrie matched it, her words even louder and dirtier than his. She was also wearing a slightly different uniform now, still all black but a stretchy, athletic material instead, tight to her skin and--

"I think we should train another time," Natasha muttered. 

Steve looked at her, then looked back at the sparring match. "Yeah? Yeah, okay."

  
  


\-----------------------

  
  


The next day, Natasha didn't see Valkyrie at all, but she did work on a project with Gamora. They had to dig behind the compound, looking for a specific pipe, and Natasha found herself constantly looking back at Gamora. She tried to figure it out; was she attracted to her too? Could she imagine kissing her? Doing more? 

Natasha imagined being naked with Gamora, like she wouldn't even be with Steve, and cringed. No, that didn't sound like fun. Not at all. 

\-------------------

  
  
  


Like most things in her life, the more Natasha practiced avoiding Valkyrie, the easier it got. Until one night, when she woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep so easily, and went to the kitchen to get a snack. She couldn’t find what she wanted in their kitchen though, so she ended up in the communal kitchen, where the lights were already on and someone was shuffling around. It was Valkyrie, of course, because God seemed to have some sort of personal vendetta against her, but Natasha didn’t let herself be perturbed: she came into the kitchen, moving quietly on her socked feet, but didn’t fight to keep herself from being seen. 

“Hey,” she greeted casually, sliding past Valkyrie to get to the fridge. Luckily, the communal fridge had her snack of choice— peach yogurt— so she hadn’t put herself under enemy fire for nothing. Natasha grabbed one and a spoon, and pushed herself up onto the counter, kicking her legs casually. 

Without looking down, she went through a quick mental rundown of what she was wearing. She had on leggings, the kind that was fuzzy on the inside, with socks layered over them. On top, she was wearing another one of her bralettes— okay, who was she kidding, it was the same one from the other day— and a loose shirt with three-quartered sleeves over it. The shirt had a wide neckline that fell to one side, exposing her shoulder. 

She wasn’t exactly dressed up, but she was comfy and warm. She’d run her fingers through her hair on the way over, so she knew it was okay. She didn’t know why she cared so much what Valkyrie thought about her pajamas, but at the same time, she  _ did  _ care. Even if it didn’t matter, even if nothing would ever happen, even if Natasha didn’t have any feelings like she kept on insisting… she wanted Valkyrie’s approval. 

Valkyrie, of course, was looking like a goddess, as usual. Natasha would have to do some research into Norse mythology, because for all she knew, she  _ was  _ a goddess. Her dark brown hair was black in the light, braided on top, though most of the braids had come undone, leaving her hair falling mostly loosely over one shoulder. She was wearing a blue wife-beater, showing off her muscular arms and shoulders, along with a pair of track shorts. Even her  _ thighs  _ were muscular— not like Steve’s, but in a different, less showy way. Less like she was trying to compete in some beauty contest, and more like she spent her days wrestling. They were the type of thighs you got from natural use, the type of thighs you got from training. The type of thighs that could wrap around someone’s waist and hold them there, squeeze the life out of them. 

Yeah. Maybe Natasha should stop now, before she moved on to writing actual poetry about Valkyries thighs. That might be a good idea. 

Valkyrie was just… so much. Natasha didn’t know how to handle it. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Natasha asked finally, desperately pretending to be casual. 

Valkyrie shrugged. She had a half-eaten apple in her hands that she took a bite out of, chewing contemplatively. “Nah. Haven’t tried yet. Thor calls it… what, lazy airplane?”

“Jet lag,” Natasha guessed, and Valkyrie nodded seriously. 

“Yeah. Normally this is around the time I’d be starting my day. It’s no matter; I’ve already finished all that I needed to do here, I can sleep away the day if I so choose.”

That sparked something in Natasha’s mind, and she realized that in her efforts to ignore Valkyrie, she’d forgotten to find out some crucial information. “Oh, I never asked. Why did you come here?”

Valkyrie shrugged, meeting Natasha’s eyes intently. Natasha found herself unable to do anything but stare back. “I wanted to see the compound. I wanted to meet the Avengers. And I wanted to try out the new dagger Tony designed for me.”

“A new dagger?” Natasha questioned. 

Valkyrie grinned and pulled a dagger out from under her shorts, which meant she had either had it strapped to her thigh with a holster or had it tucked into her panties. Natasha wasn’t sure which idea she preferred.

The dagger was about eight inches long, triangular, with a handguard and a black wrapped grip. The metal gleamed; something expensive, fancy, a new alloy Tony hadn’t worked much with before. Maybe something from Asgard?

“It was designed according to my measurements,” Valkyrie explained, “So it’s weighted perfectly, with a handle meant specifically for my hands.”

“I like it,” Natasha said, for lack of anything better. 

“Do you ever fight with daggers?”

Natasha shrugged. Her mouth felt dry, and she made herself take another bite of the yogurt. “Sometimes. Not… as much, anymore. When I worked undercover, yeah, but now I can get away with using more firepower.” A thought occurred to her, and she looked up, meeting Valkyrie’s intense gaze. “Maybe I should learn to use a sword, like you.”

“I could teach you,” Valkyrie offered, tilting her chin up. “I was wanting a new sparring partner. Thor gets boring, after a while.”

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.” It wasn’t until after she said it that she realized what she was agreeing to. Sparring with Valkyrie? That wasn’t what she wanted, that was the exact  _ opposite  _ of what she wanted. Sparring meant being close, both wearing tight clothes, touching each other and grappling and…

_ Oh. _

__ “So, you and the Captain...” Valkyrie ventured, eyes narrowing slightly. She was closer now— when did she get closer? She was leaning against the counter Natasha was sitting on, still playing with the apple in her hands, and Natasha could  _ smell  _ her. She smelled good. Fresh. Rough. Grass clippings and sweat. Natasha imagined burying her nose in her neck—

_ The Red Room allows no distractions.  _

__ “Me and Steve,” Natasha muttered, repeating what Valkyrie had said. Then the words sunk in:  _ me and Steve.  _ “What about it?”

“You’re together?” Valkyrie ventured, saying it like it was easy. She raised an eyebrow, and for the first time, Natasha realized there was a slit in it. 

“Yeah,” Natasha said. She tried to make herself come back down to earth, stop drifting so much. Valkyrie was trying to have a conversation with her, Anderlecht she was thinking about eyebrows. “Yeah, we’re together. It’s been a few years, going well. It still feels new, sometimes. Still feels… fragile.”

_ Fragile? _ Where did that come from? 

Valkyrie raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Well, I guess that’s good. It keeps things exciting.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed. She took another bite of yogurt, and Valkyrie's eyes followed the spoon’s path to her lips. “And you?”

“I don’t have a Steve,” Valkyrie confirmed. Natasha smiled at the joke, and Valkyrie continued, “But no, I don’t have any commitments. I’m free as a bird.”

That felt like a come-on, though Natasha didn’t know why. Maybe she was reading too much into it. 

“That’s good,” she said. 

Valkyrie smiled down at her apple, where she rubbed the red surface with the pad of her thumb. “Is it?”

_ Fuck.  _

__ This was not what Natasha wanted. She wasn’t gay; she had a boyfriend. She was sleep-deprived. She was stressed. 

She looked around desperately for something else to say, and her eyes landed on the apple again. “Is that good?”

“It is,” Valkyrie said, her voice a little cheerier now, and some of the tension in the room dissolved. “Would you like to try some?”

“Sure.”

Valkyrie kept rubbing the outside of the apple considerably, walking over to stand in between Natasha’s legs. Natasha parted them for her automatically, letting Valkyrie in. She wanted to wrap her legs around her waist, but obviously,  _ obviously  _ she wouldn’t. That wasn’t what this was. 

Valkyrie lifted the apple to her, and Natasha was still holding the yogurt cup and spoon in her hands, so she leaned forward, taking a bite out of it. It took some effort, but Valkyrie moved her wrist a little, making it easier. Natasha bit down, and immediately the sweetness of the apple filled her mouth, sharp and bitter, but good. 

She set her yogurt down so she could wipe her hand across her mouth, and swallowed before she replied: “It’s good.”

“Isn’t it?” Valkyrie agreed. She was still in between Natasha’s thigh, and somewhere between here and there one of her hands had landed on the outside of Natasha’s thigh. “We have some orchards on New Asgard, but no apples. I’ll have to take some with me when I go back.”

“You should,” Natasha hummed.

The room fell into silence then. There were a few sounds— the hum of the refrigerator, the chirping of bugs outside— but otherwise, it was quiet. Neither of them spoke. And neither of them looked away. 

She was. So. Close. 

Her body was within touching range, her arms, her thighs. Her face. Her neck. And Natasha wanted it. She wanted it so much she could cry. But… that wasn’t good. That wasn’t something she was allowed, she had commitments, she had promises to keep, she had… she had  _ Steve.  _ And she loved him. She loved him so fucking much, and she couldn’t lose him, not to this, not  _ like this.  _

__ Valkyrie leaned in, and Natasha lowered her chin, sucking in her lips. 

Valkyrie was still for a moment, then leaned back. “That’s alright,” she whispered, then stepped back, out from between Natasha’s legs. She leaned back against the opposite counter, a mirror to how she had been before, and took another bite out of her apple. “It is good,” she repeated, “but I can never bring myself to eat the core.”

She tossed the remainder of the apple into the compost bin, and flashed Natasha a smile. “I’m headed to bed now. Sleep well.”

  
  


———————————

  
  


Natasha climbed back into bed with Steve nearly twenty minutes later. She’d procrastinated, needing time to think. She felt almost as if she needed time to air out, like her near-betrayal had left a bad smell. 

Finally, she returned to the bedroom, where Steve had curled up around a pillow in her absence. She pulled the pillow away and slotted herself in its place, his arms pulling her against him even in his sleep, his chest warm against her back. Their hips lined up, and Natasha allowed herself to relax into the pillow. 

——————————

  
  


Natasha and Steve woke up around the same time the next morning and had a light kicking fight to see who would get out of bed to make their tea. Natasha lost, dragging herself out of bed with a couple choice words about Steve’s idea of a ‘fair fight’. 

She thought of the night before as she made the tea. It felt somewhat unreal, but at the same time, goosebumps rose on her skin at the memory. Her body  _ remembered  _ it, even if her mind wanted to deny it. 

She decided what she would have to do, then brought the cups of steaming tea back with her to the bedroom. It was matcha tea, something she and Steve had tried a month ago and stuck with, preferring it over the bitterness of coffee. They mixed it with a special protein powder solution designed especially for super-soldiers, which gave them a nice kick every morning. 

Steve was sitting up when she came in, the blankets curled around his waist. “What a good drink slave,” he said playfully, laughing when Natasha swatted him. 

“I have something to tell you,” Natasha said, climbing back into bed on her side. She handed Steve his mug, and he took a reverent sip before nodding. 

“Okay. I love matcha talk.”

He was in such a good mood, Natasha almost felt guilty about dragging him down. But she couldn’t avoid this. She knew how to keep secrets; it was her duty to fight against that urge, and be honest up front,  _ especially  _ with Steve. “I went to the commons last night for a midnight snack and Valkyrie was there. We didn’t kiss… but we got close. I told her no.” She added that last part like it would somehow make it better. Natasha knew that what she’d done had been a betrayal; if not with her body, than with her mind. She’d  _ wanted it.  _

__ Steve nodded, looking down into the murky surface of his tea. “Thanks for telling me.” He wasn’t even surprised. 

“I didn’t kiss her,” Natasha repeated, trying to explain herself. “Because I love you. I want to be with you, I’m just… attracted to her.”

Steve frowned, taking in this new information. He looked over at her, no longer quite so mopey. “Why do you think that is?”

Natasha felt her mouth go dry. She… didn’t know. She hadn’t thought to ask herself the simple question of  _ why.  _

__ “Physically, I find her attractive,” she said, testing the idea out. “I like the way she looks, and I like her… presence. She’s very commanding. I don’t really understand it. Maybe it’s just my brain rebelling— I see something I can’t have and don’t need, and I want it just because it’s dangerous and different.”

“Dangerous and different,” Steve repeated. “Okay.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Natasha deflected, remembering back to why she started this conversation in the first place. “I just wanted you to know. I don’t want to have secrets.”

“I know,” Steve said, incredible and sincere, “And I appreciate that. Thanks for telling me.” 

She leaned in so he could kiss her on the forehead, then slumped against his shoulder, careful not to spill either of their tea. “I just want her to go back to Asgard. I want things to be easy again.”

  
  


———————————

  
  


They had meetings that morning, discussing big issues and making contingency plans for all the different things that could go wrong in the world: what would have to happen for the Avengers to go support the Guardians; what would have to happen for the Guardians to come support the Avengers. It took a lot of brainpower, and by the end Natasha wasn’t the only one who wanted to stop thinking for a while. 

“I’m gonna take a nap,” Steve murmured to Natasha, kissing her on the head before slipping away. 

“Clint, do you want to spar?” She asked. 

Clint yawned, brushing past her too. “Are you kidding me? I’m going to nap too. Hey, do you think Cap would let me nap with him? I wouldn’t mind being spooned.”

“He’ll probably get confused and try to kiss you,” Natasha pointed out. “Best not to tempt fate. Thor—?”

Thor waved her away, clearly having something else on his mind. Natasha looked around, trying to see who else she could ask, when a low, honey-sweet voice spoke up: “I’ll spar with you. I could teach you how to use my swords, if you want.”

Natasha turned, taking in Valkyrie as she finished packing up her things. The Queen of Asgard had a Dell laptop, complete with a cordless mouse painted to look like Mickey, and a mousepad that read  _ Kneel, Bitches.  _ Natasha didn’t even try to process the juxtaposition between the two. 

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed instead, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll change and meet you there?”

“Sounds good.”

Natasha knew it probably wasn’t smart, but she really did want to spar, and she was actually curious about swordplay. She was sure it’d be fine. 

It wasn’t fine. It was very much not fine, because when she got to the gym it was empty aside from Valkyrie, who was crouched on one of the mats sharpening her sword against a whetstone. She stood when she saw Natasha, showing off the yoga pants she’d changed into, black with a strip of sheer fabric running down each leg, which only gave Natasha’s imagination more fuel that it needed. Along with that, she was wearing a loose tank top, her hair braided over one shoulder. 

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d take, so I thought I’d take a minute to sharpen it,” she said, lifting her sword in explanation. “I don’t have any practice blades, so do you mind if we use these?”

Natasha swallowed and shrugged. “Doesn’t make a difference to me. I’ll try not to cut my arm open.”

Valkyrie grinned, feral. “That’s the spirit. Catch.” 

She tossed a sword, and Natasha just managed to catch it by the handle. It was heavier than she’d expected, notably weightier than a dagger, but when she swung it cut through the air easily, the sleek design coming in handy. “Wow.”

“Right? Tell me you’ll ever go back to a gun after this,” Valkyrie agreed. “Come on, I can run you through a couple moves then we can practice with them.”

They did just that. Valkyrie showed her different ways to move with the sword, slashing up, down, left, right and diagonal. Natasha realized quickly that it was similar to punches: jabs and crosses, hammer strikes and uppercuts. Next, Valkyrie taught her the different blocks and parries that were possible, coming at her with slowed down, basic attacks so she could practice them. Finally, they fell into a sort of rhythm, circling and going in for an attack when possible. At first, they never got the chance to actually hit, but soon they were moving fast enough that it was a real possibility. When Valkyrie managed to get under Natasha's guard she whapped her with the flat hilt of her blade, goading and teasing. 

It felt natural, easy. Natasha liked sparring with another girl, especially one who was more skilled than her, at this at least. It was clear that Valkyrie was pulling her punches, not going too hard on Natasha for her first time, but Natasha didn't feel demeaned because of it. It felt like a game; like two friends just toying around. 

Then Valkyrie started really finding her rhythm, attempting harder and harder moves. She switched to her non-dominant hand; she moved further and closer, testing the maneuverability of each distance. The entire time, the gym was loud with the sound of their heavy breathing, metal clacking against metal, a constant rhythm. 

Natasha was sweating, and Valkyrie was too, droplets forming on her forehead and dripping down. She swiped them away from her eyes, continuing the fight with single-minded determination. Her shirt clung to her chest; her arm muscles rippled with every motion. 

Natasha felt like she could predict every move, just from the sound of her breathing. She knew, eventually, they'd have to stop. She never wanted to stop. 

Valkyrie hit her sword hard, then flipped her own blade around, whapping Natasha on the thigh. She dodged an attempted strike and hit Natasha's sword upwards, using the opening to kick her backward. She toyed with her, feigning one way, then the other, making Natasha put her entire focus on the pattern of her feet, the twitch of her wrists. She made to strike her left side, and when Natasha moved to block it, used it as a diversion to step to Natasha's undefended right side, swinging wide and smacking Natasha's ass with the blade's hilt before jumping back, grinning like crazy. "What, you couldn't block that?" She teased.

Natasha didn't think, just acted. She leapt forwards, swinging her sword to hit Valkyrie in the side, but before she could Valkyrie smacked her blade up, twisting their blades together and stepping close into her guard. Natasha tried to untangle their blades, but it was too late: Valkyrie used the distraction to wrap a leg around her ankle, tripping her backward. They both fell, Valkyrie landing on top of Natasha with an  _ oom _ pf. She knocked the blades away, and then it was just them, laying on the mat in an empty gym, breathing heavy and covered in sweat. 

Valkyrie placed her forearms on either side of Natasha's head, though she didn't take any of her weight off of her. "Hey," she said breathily, barely a whisper. 

Natasha looked up at her, the fullness of her lips, the intensity of her eyes. She was trained in nearly every style of combat there was, and yet she couldn't think of a single way to roll Valkyrie off of her. Or, maybe, she just didn't want to think of a way. 

She was right there. So close, just like the night before, and it would be so damn easy…

"That was pretty neat," Steve said, and Natasha jerked her head back, seeing an upside-down version of him lounging by the doors. "Have you ever fought with a shield?" 

The moment dissolved. Valkyrie sat up, still flushed and sweaty, and said "I can't say that I have. I was training to fight in a cavalry; shield's don't do much good on a horse." 

Steve snorted, and Natasha could hear him come closer. She was still laying on the ground, not even trying to get up-- though in her defense, Valkyrie was still sitting on her waist. 

"Have you ever fought with a sword before?" Valkyrie asked.

"No, but I've always wanted to," Steve said, completely genuine. 

"I could teach you sometime. Not today; I think I'm about ready to take a shower."

Steve chuckled. "No problem here. Nat, you have fun?" 

He knelt over her, and Natasha looked up, trying to read his expression. She half expected to see bitterness but found none. He was asking genuinely, not because he wanted to catch her in something, but because he wanted to know. There were no games with him.

"Yeah," she said, hyper-aware of Valkyrie's weight on her. "It's not as different from other fighting styles as you might expect." 

"I'm glad," he said, then bent down and kissed her. She was surprised-- Valkyrie was literally right there, hardly a foot away-- especially when he opened his mouth, letting the kiss deepen for a moment before pulling back. "I'll help you up?"

Natasha thanked Valkyrie for sparring with her, hyper-aware of Steve right there. Then she and Steve walked back to her apartment, where Steve pushed her against the wall and kissed her roughly. "I hope you know how fucking sexy you are," he muttered, so dark it was almost a growl. He pushed his hips against hers once, pushing her back against the door and holding her there as he kissed down her neck. 

"I'm sweaty and gross," she complained, even as he found that special junction between her neck and shoulder that made her nerves light up in excitement. 

"Then tell me to stop," he hummed into her skin. 

She didn't. 

  
  


\-----------------------------

  
  


The next day, the Guardians were sent on their way. The Avengers gathered around to see them off, all shaking hands and hugging. Natasha made a special note to say goodbye to Gamora, hugging her and wasting as much time talking to her as she possibly could. Then there was just one person left to say goodbye to. 

“Thanks for sparring with me,” she said, clasping Valkyrie’s forearm. “It was good to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Valkyrie said, though something about her seemed stiff. She wasn’t smiling, and her fingers dug sharply into Natasha’s forearm. She didn’t look away from Natasha, instead watching her thoughtfully, so blank-faced she almost seemed… angry? She tilted her head slightly, and her eyes darted down to look at Natasha’s lips for a moment before she pulled away, removing all points of contact. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“I… yeah. Sure.” Natasha was taken aback by her reaction, unsure what she was supposed to do. “Have a safe trip home.”

Valkyrie turned around without another moment, her cape flaring behind her. Natasha watched her leave, feeling something sick sink to the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling she’d felt before, and all she could think was  _ Yelena. _

__ “Nat, I was—”

“I’m going to go for a run,” Natasha said, giving Steve a pointed look. 

Steve practically took a physical step back. “Oh— okay. Let me know if you want a partner.”

“I don’t,” she said, maybe too sharp. She forced herself to soften, not wanting to snap at Steve for something he didn’t do. “I’ll be back later.”

He nodded minutely, and let her go. 

  
  


————————————

  
  


Natasha lied, though she didn’t realize it at the time. She’d gone back to the apartment to change into her running shoes, but when she slipped through the garage to leave, a flash of metal caught her eyes and she couldn’t say no. She pulled out her bike— not a motorcycle, an honest to God bicycle, designed for rough terrain— and as soon as she was out of the garage, she got on and pedaled. No helmet, because she knew how to fall and couldn’t bring herself to lean into the American item. 

She didn’t know if they had helmets in Russia, didn’t actually understand the culture around safety there. She didn’t know if they wore their seatbelts when driving; she didn’t even know if they  _ had  _ seatbelts. They certainly didn’t in the Red Room. There were no grates over the fireplaces, no carpets over the floor. They learned what was safe and what wasn’t. They learned to deal with the cold tile floors. They learned to be better, or they died trying. 

Natasha pedaled hard, swerving onto a dirt road that took her away from the compound and all its civilization. There were more rocks on this road, and it wasn’t perfectly flat, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The bike shuddered over every bump, flew over every rock, half of them gone unnoticed. She pushed and pushed and pushed, wanting to hurt, wanting to  _ feel.  _

__ She stopped pedaling for a moment, letting the momentum do the work for her. The wind whipped against her skin, sharp and cold but not painful. She swerved on the path, back and forth, and without her permission she imagined another figure on the path beside her. The girl rode a battered red bike, her dirty blonde ponytail flowing behind her, her shirt ruffling in the wind. Natasha pedaled harder until they were actually side by side, and the girl looked over, smiling. 

She wasn’t actually there, but Natasha could imagine. She knew what Yelena looked like, had long since burned her features into her mind. Past tense. Yelena didn’t look like that anymore. 

_ BANG! _

__ Natasha started pedaling again, wanting to leave the memory behind her. Yelena was dead, and it was her fault. Her kiss. Her bullet. 

_ The Red Room allows no distractions.  _

__ After that, Natasha had been good. Fuck, she’d been so good. Hadn’t even  _ looked  _ at another girl. The fear had wedged itself deep in her gut, and she’d clung onto it for all these years. She’d left the Red Room, but there were parts of it that never left her. 

Until now. 

Because she liked Valkyrie. She  _ wanted  _ Valkyrie, wanted to touch her skin and taste her lips. She’d wanted to kiss Valkyrie at midnight in the kitchen, wanted to kiss her at noon in the training room, wanted to kiss her every moment in between. Well, maybe not every moment, because Steve had been there too, and she loved Steve, wanted him in a not entirely different way. She wasn’t a lesbian, she knew that much; but she wanted. She wanted things Steve couldn’t give her. Wanted things Steve wasn’t was. 

And yet, she still wanted Steve. 

She hated the indecision, the feeling like she had to choose. She would never give Steve up, not without a fight, but where did that leave her? Wanting and wanting with no release? Repressed, for another decade? She wasn’t sure if she could do that to herself. 

One thing was certain: whatever she was, Natasha wasn’t straight. And it would be unfair to keep living her life like she was. 

Natasha took the dirt road in a loop, slowing to a much more sustainable rate as she made her way back to the compound. When she got back, she was sweaty and wind-swept, but she’d come to a decision. 

“Hey,” Steve said when she swept inside, stopping her with a hand on her arm. “You good?”

She blinked up at him, his sincere concern. She would give up just about anything not to lose him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, I’m just… gonna shower, then maybe we can talk about dinner?”

Steve hesitated, then visibly gave in. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good. Take your time.”

She pecked him on the cheek, then went to shower. She went through the motions quickly, thoughts still drifting away from reality. She wasn’t in the mood to wash dishes tonight, so she’d see if Steve wanted to go out to eat, or at least go to the commons. With that in mind, she got dressed (with a purple lace bralette this time; she did have other bras, even if she preferred the maroon one) and blow-dried her hair. She brushed through it a few extra times, trying to tone down its softness, but eventually gave up. It was fine. 

She was just about to leave the bathroom, her hand on the doorknob, when she caught herself, making herself take in a deep breath. Over dinner, she’d talk to Steve about her revelations. They’d figure it out. 

She imagined Valkyrie again, the way she looked in the kitchen at midnight, standing between her legs. 

She’d been so out of it when they said goodbye that Natasha wondered if she’d ever see her again; if they even had a chance at friendship. She honestly didn’t know. 

She pushed her shoulders back and pushed the door open, words already on the tip of her tongue, but as soon as she stepped out she faltered. Any thoughts she had prepared flew out the window, because there was no way she could’ve  _ ever  _ prepared for this. 

Steve sat on the couch, wearing his normal lazy-day sweats, his shirt tight to his chest. He lounged comfortably, his arm thrown over the back of the couch— over Valkyrie’s shoulders. 

“Hey,” Steve said casually, like this wasn’t a big deal. “I thought we’d have an extra for dinner. Or, you know. Dessert.”

Natasha stared at them, trying to figure out what the _hell_ was going on. Valkyrie wasn’t just sitting on the couch, she was leaning up against Steve— the exact way Natasha did. Steve’s finger traced circles on her shoulder. Natasha didn’t know what that was, but she knew one thing: it wasn’t platonic. 

“You were supposed to leave this morning,” she said, stupidly. No one tell Tony, but the Black Widow could be caught by surprise on occasion.

Valkyrie shrugged, intertwining her hand with Steve. Steve looked a little unsure about it, but Valkyrie ignored him. “I was given motivation to stay. Unfinished business.”

Natasha’s head was filled with clouds. “I thought you finished all of your business the other day?”

Valkyrie stood, brushing Steve off of her like a bug. She strode across the room to Natasha, every step purposeful, belaying not a single  _ shred  _ of insecurity. Valkyrie knew  _ exactly  _ what she wanted. “Not all of it,” she exhaled, then pushed Natasha up against the wall and kissed her. 

Natasha kissed back without hesitation. She’d wanted this so fucking much, and now here she was, getting it, and she just… she couldn’t push it away anymore. She tried so fucking hard to deny herself, but now Valkyrie was here, one hand on her waist and the other holding Natasha by the skull, kissing her intently, like the idea had been consuming her thoughts as much as it had been for Natasha. She wasn’t nice about it, pushing Natasha roughly against the wall, but that was okay because Natasha didn’t want nice. She wanted this— all of it— every last drop of this moment, so she could marinate in it like a steak. And when they pulled away, finally, toosoontoolate, all Natasha could do was gasp and say  _ “Steve.” _

__ “Right here,” Steve said, not from the couch but from beside her. She turned, and something about his clear, easy expression made her relax. She didn’t fuck this up. 

Steve must have seen her expression, because a moment later his hands were on hers, pulling her close. “Hey, hey, none of that. You wanted this, right? I know I probably should’ve asked, but we can always stop— we don’t have to do this—”

“Steve,” Natasha said, chest tight and head heavy with endorphins. That had been one of the best kisses in Natasha’s life, and her entire mind was buzzing, asking for more, more. “Steve. What— I don’t get it. What is ‘this’?”

“I think ‘this’ is what they call a threesome,” Valkyrie said from behind Natasha, and she turned, nearly shivering when she realized how close she was. “Without sex, of course. Steve told me you don’t do that.”

“I… yeah.” Natasha’s head was still full of sand, but she was starting to understand what was happening better. Steve had asked Valkyrie to stay another night instead of going with the Guardians. Steve had asked for her; because he knew how much she wanted it, and he wanted to provide for her. He wanted to take care of her.

Natasha looked back at Valkyrie. “And you’re okay with this?”

“Me?” Valkyrie said, sounding surprised. “Oh, yeah. In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been wanting to do that since we first met, your pesky boyfriend just got in the way.” She smirked at Steve, who responded with a smile of his own, like they’d already talked about this. “But I am bi, for the record. I heavily prefer girls, but I make some exceptions.”

“I’m an exception,” Steve said, raising his hand derpily. “At least, so she says. I haven’t had any physical proof yet.”

“Oh, you want proof?” Valkyrie said, raising her eyebrows in challenge. She glanced at Natasha quickly, double checking. “If you don’t want things to go any further, I’d say something right about now.” 

“Though any of us can stop it at any time,” Steve piped up quickly. “The safeword is ‘cherry’.” 

Nastaha stared at him, trying to figure out how someone like him could ever be created, but eventually she gave up. “Jesus. Shut him up for me, will you?”

She shoved Valkyrie towards him, and Valkyrie grinned, saying “Gladly.” Then she was pushing Steve back against the wall, similar to how she’d done with Natasha, and kissed him. 

Natasha watched, her heart twisting, not with jealousy but  _ hunger.  _ She would've thought that seeing something like this would've made her seething, but in truth, that wasn't the case at all. She had no qualms about where Steve's loyalties were, and in the meantime, she could watch her boyfriend kiss from the outside pov: the way he closed his eyes, the way he trailed his hand down Valkyrie's back. He was respectful in the way you respect a building; like he was touching a monument, something that had to be built, not something to take for granted. Natasha loved him for it. 

Soon, the pair of them stumbled over to the couch, breaking apart and they fell onto it. Natasha had followed, and four different hands grabbed at her, pulling her on it with them. She was dragged one way, and then found herself straddling Steve's lap, kissing him, warm and familiar.

"My turn," Valkyrie said, pulling Natasha away from Steve and over to her mouth. They kissed, and the contrast was stark, but in no way bad. Valkyrie nipped at her lip, testing, and beside them Steve said: "She doesn't like using teeth." 

"He thinks he's in charge," Valkyrie hummed, their foreheads resting together as they panted. 

"If he's not in charge, who is?" 

Valkyrie's eyes went dark. "I am." 

They kissed again, with Valkyrie seeming intent on making Natasha forget her own name. She was nearly successful, and when she pulled back Natasha needed a moment to process what she said. 

"What are your limits?"

_ Limits? Limits. Limits.  _

__ "Limits," Natasha repeated. Limits. "Underwear and bras stay on. No touching through them. Most other touch is okay." 

"Most?"

"I don't like biting," Natasha admitted. "He loves it, though." 

Steve looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Uh… what?" 

Valkyrie hummed. "I don't think I believe you. Guess I'll have to see for myself."

———————

  
  


By the end of the night, Natasha was a hot mess. She could hardly even think, and neither of her lovers seemed to expect her to. They left her sprawled out on the couch in a daze, mind numb and body humming with pleasure. 

Valkyrie said goodbye to her, giving her one final kiss. “I had fun,” she said teasingly. Her hair had come out of some of its braids, leaving it extra curly and messy. It was a good look. “Sleep well. If that’s actually what you plan to do.”

Nastaha listened as Steve led her to the door, the both of them talking and laughing lightly. Steve was just about as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen him, and she was glad to have gotten him to that point. 

A minute later, the door closed and Steve came back to where she was. “Hey. Are you still hungry, or do you just want to go to bed?”

Nastaha squinted up at him, wondering what the hell kind of question that was. Steve laughed, and plopped down on the couch beside her, pulling her head to rest on his chest as he opened up his food delivery app. Natasha watched vaguely, her mind still replaying everything that had happened and trying to find boxes to compartmentalize this information in. The problem was, she didn’t  _ have  _ any boxes for ‘no-sex threesome with my boyfriend and a girl’, so her brain was having a hell of a time processing it. 

Once Steve had ordered the food, he put his phone away, leaning down to kiss Natasha’s head. “Hey. What’re you thinking about?”

Natasha grunted, and he laughed. 

“It was good,” she managed to say, nuzzling against his firm chest. “It feels… fake. I can’t believe we actually did that.”

“Well, we did,” Steve said, smiling pleasantly. “Shit, we probably should’ve offered to let her sleep on our couch. She’s probably going to go back to Thor’s room now.”

Nastaha giggled, the idea of the God of Thunder having to deal with post-hookup Valkyrie extra funny in her current state. “Was she sharing his bed?”

Steve grunted. “Sharing? More like a hostile takeover. I had to go in and get them one morning, and she’d slept diagonally over him like she was trying to kick him off the bed.”

“Was it sexual?” Natasha wondered out loud. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. They looked like… brothers. Or cats.” He snorted, then gave her a significant look. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“I don’t think so,” Natasha admitted. It was a weird thought, especially after pining after Valkyrie for so long, but she didn’t think she actually had many monogamous feelings towards her. After that night, she felt sated, like there was a well inside of herself that had been filled up. She didn’t need any more; at least, not for a while. 

Steve had given her everything she needed. 

Natasha shifted so she could look up at him, eyes going soft. “Did I mention I love you?”

He smiled. “Maybe. I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well, in that case, I love you.” She leaned up, kissing the underside of his jaw. Her lips felt a little warm and a little numb, still tingling from so much use, but she could give him this. “Thanks for doing this. Thanks for being you.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Steve said, impossibly soft. 

Natasha ended up falling asleep before the food came, though she woke up when Steve had to get out from under her. She remained in a sleepy daze, but when he came back and coaxed her to eat, she gave in, mostly tuning out his jokes about needing to refuel. “Does anyone have Gatorade?” He teased. “I think I need to replenish my electrolytes.”

She kicked his ankle playfully, then refocused her attention on her food. It was good, though her mind was drifting so much she only actually tasted about half of it. Finally, she set the bowl aside, fully intending to pass out right there, but Steve scooped her up before she could, carrying her to the bedroom. 

“I thought I told you I hate being carried bridal style,” she mocked, too tired to change her inflection to let him know she was teasing. He was a smart boy; he could figure it out. 

“Feel free to reprimand me when you wake up,” he teased, tucking her under the covers. “Sleep well.”

She did.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the comment section gets enough love, I'll wrtie a sequelfrom Steve's POV where he explores his bisexuality and they have another no-sex threesome with a guy. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this story, and have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 is already written, let me know if you want it ;) 
> 
> Please comment below! What are your thoughts on this dynamic? What are your thoughts on fanfics with straight relationships (especially in this fandom smh)? And, if you're ace, did you relate to any of Natasha's thought processes (even if they weren't completely accurate to the ace experience)? Let me know, and have a great day!


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